


The Scales of Justice

by orphan_account



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 16:20:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16178723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In the wake of a life changing divorce, a young Deputy fondly nicknamed "Rook" by her peers transfers to Hope County in hopes of starting a new life, only to find the man who helped her be free of her abusive ex-husband. She quickly finds that he left John Duncan behind in Georgia, reborn as John Seed in Hope County, but he's still the same charming smile she remembers, blue eyes flashing something wicked.





	The Scales of Justice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Too_Many_Seeds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Too_Many_Seeds/gifts).



> I'm absolutely blown away at the support this story has received. Thank you all who read my works and help support the writers for the Far Cry fandom, especially other writers supporting me and cheering me on. I love this community and am so grateful to be a part of it. ~ Dep

_Atlanta, Georgia_

Rook rubs at her arm under her blazer, silently cursing as she waits impatiently for his lawyer to stop talking. 

"According to this, you are due half of his savings, and assets of transportation. However-"

"There is no ' _however_ ,'" Mr. Duncan says calmly but with a firmness. He sits back in his seat, posture perfect in his well-tailored suit, jaw tight. "My Client is due what is her's, as contracted. Now we already have assault charges filing on top of the due process of the divorce, and my client will  _not_  be speaking any more about negotiations. We are here to sign on the dotted line. There is nothing further to discuss."

\---

_She felt immensely grateful to have John Duncan by her side through this. She had heard of him and his practice through a friend when she decided to finally leave her bastard of a husband, who took his impotency out on her. When she first walked into John's office, she was immediately intimidated. Everything was clean, neat, tidy. Not a single person working there was out of line in their clothing, all smiles and "can I help you?"s when she walked in._

_"I'm here to speak to Mr. Duncan? I have an appointment-"_

_The receptionist's manicured nails clack on the keyboard as she nodded along with a "mmhm."_

_"Yes, your 9am with John? He's just finishing up with a meeting and will be out soon."_

_"Th-thank you." Rook finds a seat in a plush chair in what she assumes is the waiting room, looking around. She did her best to dress nice, but still felt under dressed as women walked by in perfectly fit skirts and heels clacking on the tile or men walking by on their cell phones. She starts to wonder if she can afford this lawyer, but when she rubs the bruise on her wrist, she's already coming up with any way she can to afford getting away from the asshole that ruined her life. She'll figure it out if it means finally being free._

_She's lost in thought when a young man, black hair combed back, beard trimmed just to his jaw and framing a flash of perfect white teeth and the bluest eyes she's ever seen comes walking over to her. She notices for a brief moment that he's slightly bow-legged in his gait, hands wrapped around a small stack of papers and flawless black loafers clacking on the tile as he walks over to her, hand extended, not a fleck of dirt under his nails and skin smooth. She smiles, straightening up and standing to greet him as he goes to shake her hand._

_"My name is John Duncan. Come, we'll speak in my office where it's private."_

\---

The divorce process was ugly. To Mr. Duncan's recommendation, she changed her phone number - keeping it private except to her lawyer, her boss, and her mother, deleted all forms of social media, and refused to give out her new address to anyone. Her soon-to-be ex pulled out all the dirty punches, claiming she was unfaithful (John had quickly disproved that in court). In turn, John was ruthless. He recommended charges on top of the divorce after Rook had come into his office sporting a black eye.

"Is that from him?" John's eyebrows had raised at the bruising on her face. She nodded, fighting back tears.

"I had him arrested immediately. Choke hold until others from my district could come," her voice cracked as she spoke. "Telling him I wanted a divorce was a mistake."

John slid a box of tissues to her before leaning back in his office chair, a slight squeak ringing out as he leaned the lumbar support back. 

"Off the record," John said quietly, hands clasped in his lap as he leaned back and watched her wipe her tears. "I'm no stranger to abuse. My childhood was... violent. I won't go into details, but abusers don't care about their victim. They'll claim to, oh trust me, they'll make sure you hear it. I strongly suggest getting away from him. Move all of your items in with a friend, or a relative, anywhere that's not your home. Get as far away from your abuser as you can."

Rook sniffled, getting her wits back about her.

"I'm sorry for crying," she laughs weakly, earning a small wave from John in dismissal.

"You've been through a lot, and I've dealt with more emotional clients. You're strong, given your situation." He smiles at her, and Rook would hug him if she could. 

_I'm not going to fault you for being human._

Her ex-husband was found guilty of three counts of assault, one count of stalking, had a restraining order placed against him - per John's request, no closer than 100 feet at all times. As the judge announced his guilty verdict, she felt a wave of relief wash over her, John glued next to her, her guardian angel through this nightmare. As her ex-husband was lead away by cops, he glanced over, glaring not at her, but John, who simply smirked in return and refused to be the one to break eye contact. All things considered, John's alpha energy in the court room was incomparable.

Rook won the case and then some, earning a hefty sum of money. Once she paid John off, she immediately set to finding work somewhere else. It was time to leave Georgia behind.

_Hope County, Montana._

_Deputy wanted. Will train. Must be available to work nights. Call Earl Whitehorse, 222-555-0123._

"I'm moving up North," she had called John the night before she left. He hummed in response. "I'm sorry for bothering you Mr. Duncan. Just, thank you. For everything. I wouldn't have been able to do any of this without you."

She could almost hear John's smile through the line. She tucked the phone between her head and her shoulder as she folded up the last of her clothes in a suitcase, pacing nervously through her bedroom.

"You take care of yourself, Deputy. Keep my cell number, call me if you need anything. I mean it." and with that, he hung up, leaving her in a silent bedroom.

Saying goodbye to her hero wasn't as easy as she expected.

\---

_-Four Years Later- Hope County, Montana_

"Rook," Whitehorse tells her, "I need you to head up to the Seed Ranch in Holland Valley out near Fall's End. Got a few noise complaints about the resident there using his landing strip late at night and waking some neighbors. Owner of the property is a John Seed."

"The Seed Ranch?" She asks. She had heard stories about the area, but it stayed off her radar for the most part. She had never met this John guy, not taking much interest in anything that wasn't her problem. She takes a drink of her coffee before half-shrugging and agreeing. "Can I go alone or should I drag Pratt out?"

"Don't worry about a partner. Routine noise check." Earl waves it off before going back to his office. Before he goes in, he stops, turning around. "You be careful with John and his family. Rumor has it they got this... cult, something or other, starting up. Eden's Gateway, or... something like that. Just keep your guard up with him."

Rook drives to the ranch and is blown away by how monstrous it is. Whoever this John guy is, he prefers a luxurious life. As she walks up, she notices two men off to the side, watching her and muttering between themselves. She scans the house and immediately notices justice scales in the fencing, a familiar detail that reminds her of home in intimate ways.

"I'm here to speak to John Seed?" She asks them, hoping one of them is him.

One of the men - dressed in a long black trench coat and a wild mess of curly hair, points to the house. She nods a "thank you" at them before turning to walk up the steps to the doorway, and knocks on the large wooden doors. The glass is fogged, but she sees movement before it finally opens, and she gasps.

John Duncan stares back at her, the same familiar handsome face she remembers from Georgia, his baby blues peering at her quizzically before a flash of recognition and he  _smiles_.

"Oh, I remember you."

\---

Rook watches him pour coffee into the mug set in front of her, the smile never leaving him. He's the same handsome face she remembers, but his clothes took a more casual turn, fit for Montana. The blue velvet of his shirt, tucked into black Levi's moves with his body with grace that she remembers from sitting in his office, closed doors assuring privacy. 

He helped save her life from an explosive devil of a man that had threatened to take everything from her, and she'd be lying if she said she didn't feel the smallest bubble of warmth in her chest whenever John smiled at her. In Georgia, she had found any excuse to see him - appointments, lunches to talk over the case, and John complied every time, charming smile and refusing to let her pay when she would attempt to take her wallet out. There were times where she had come in with a coffee for him, only to find out he hated Hazelnut but drank it anyways ( _"It's a gift from you, why would I be rude and decline it?"_ ) She had told herself it was all him being professional, a good name for his law firm, a five-star Yelp review to keep his reputation up. The heart flutters were due to the kindness he was showing her due to her situation - pity, at most. Unbeknownst to her, maybe John looked forward to her appointments, or felt almost protective of his client when the bastard who didn't know how good he had it took all of his brutalities out on her. Tolerating the foul taste that Hazelnut left on his tongue just for her ( _"Personally I'm more fond of a little milk and sugar, dear."_ ) 

"We've had a few complaints about noise from your air strip," Rook starts, and John hums acknowledgement into his mug as he takes a sip. 

"Is that so? Let me guess," he takes a seat at the table across from her and takes another sip of his coffee. "The Ryes filed the complaint? I have to listen to that clunker of Nick's zipping through the air, why can't he tolerate my baby flying over his-"

"Mr. Duncan." Rook puts aside her personal matters for her own set of professionalism. She's not sitting in front of John anymore as his client, but as an officer of the law in front of a civilian. He raises his eyebrows for the briefest of seconds at the mention of his dead, old name and straightens, free hand going up in a sign of  _"fine, I'll listen."_

"I don't know for sure who filed the complaint. That's all Nancy and dispatch, and, none of my business. This is just a formal warning." She finishes with a sip from her coffee mug, humming low in her throat. "You make good coffee."

He laughs, voice low and smooth, and it reverberates through her body and makes her cheeks feel hot. 

"J-just," god, she's stuttering, and old feelings she thought were long gone are coming back up, warm in her body like the first shot of expensive gin. "Watch the timing when you fly, Mr. Dunca-"

"Seed." 

"I'm sorry?" She blinks, slightly put off at being interrupted and clutches her coffee mug firmly with both hands.

"When I came up here with my brothers, I changed my name to what it used to be. It's John Seed now."

"Oh," she breathes in, apologizing. "You have brothers?"

"Mmhm," he taps his nail against his coffee mug and she looks down, noticing the new hand tattoos that he's sporting in his skin, vaguely making out "GATE" on his knuckles in an Old English font. "Two older brothers, Joseph and Jacob - both in their forties. A little sister too, somewhere in her twenties, adopted through Joseph." He stands up, taking a photo off the mantle of his fireplace precariously placed in the middle of his living room, handing the photo to Rook. She studies it for a moment as John points to the man sitting in the chair. "That's Joseph, and the big guy behind him is my oldest brother, Jacob."

"Is that gun registered?" She points to the gun in the red head's hands and he huffs a small laugh.

"Yes. He's an army veteran, so the whole... gun thing, it's part of his image." Rook mutters a small "uh-huh" before glancing at who she assumes is John's sister, sitting next to Joseph with her arm on his leg. 

John tips his head as he watches her, blue eyes studying her the same way they did back in Atlanta. "You should come with me on Sunday. Eat with my family. Joseph would adore you."

Rook takes a moment to consider his offer, going over her weekend plans in her head. Her home was a simple cottage near the Henbane River - nothing fancy, enough to get to work at the Hope County Jail when need be and check in with the Sheriff. It's in desperate need of being reorganized and the garden needs to be tended to, but it can wait. 

"What should I wear?" she decides to answer, and John smiles.

\---

"Rook, you're doing  _what_  on Sunday?"

"I really don't see what the big deal is about this? I'm just having lunch with John and his fami-"

Hudson scoffs as Pratt shakes his head in disbelief.

"John's part of a fucking cult, Rook. That whole Eden's Gate business is some weird culty shit that you don't need to get involved with."

Rook raises an eyebrow, taking a deep breath to steady the flip-flop in her stomach.

"Why am I just now learning about this, then?"

Pratt shrugs, taking a sip of the stale coffee he microwaved and grimacing at the burnt aftertaste. 

"They haven't done anything wrong, well,  _yet_. They've been steadily on our radar the past year. John's in charge of the public relations stuff, has some weird "Power of Yes" campaign that the followers go to and he's responsible for baptisms and confessions. They're a big doomsday cult. Overheard some weird spiel once from The Father about the collapse."

"Who is 'The Father?'"

"Joseph Seed." Hudson says as Pratt gives up on his gross coffee and dumps it down the drain in a nearby sink.

"Oh. John's big brother."

"The leader of Eden's Gate."

"But they haven't done anything wrong yet? So, what's the big deal?"

"They haven't done anything  _that we know of_ , yet. Who knows what that means." Staci's drinking a bottle of Pepsi now and Rook wonders for a moment about his caffeine addiction. "Look, we can't keep you from going. Hudson may try to tie you to your desk, and I'm not going to try to stop her if she does, but just be careful when you go this weekend."

Rook scoffs at her partners before turning to find the fax machine for Earl. 

"Thanks for the heads up or whatever," she finally says, waving a hand over her shoulder.

\---

Joseph's church is absolutely  _stunning_. Tall and white, beautifully pointed and the compound is alight and busy with people scurrying about. She's draped in a white sundress that she hadn't worn in years with a denim jacket, a sweet country look and tan flats with flowers embroidered along the sides, dancing up to the toe area. John had smiled when he saw her outfit, making a note that he liked her in white, and enthusiastically would keep her close, hand gently around her side and making her breath hitch in her throat when he would move it to her hip. She didn't know what kind of woman he preferred - hell, if he even preferred women - and she knew it wouldn't be a girl like her. He knew about the baggage she had carried with her to Montana, practically carried her through the worst of it. The trust issues, the anxiety attacks at night from flashbacks, all of it. She had told him everything in hopes of being able to use whatever as an arsenal against  _him_.

she's out of her thoughts when a giant of a man, thick red hair on top of his head and a matching beard, walks up to John and raises an eyebrow at her. She's fought off men his size before, manic homeless men on PCP running at her with a knife, and they didn't intimidate her the way this one did.

"Jacob!" John says happily and pushes Rook towards just a tad bit. "Brother, I'd like to introduce you to our guest." He tells Jacob her name and Jacob snorts.

"You brought a cop, John? Really?" He growls out at her and she bristles. 

"You afraid I'll see something I'm not supposed to?"

John breaks up the tension in an instant.

"There's no reason for that," he says calmly, a smile on his face. "Jacob here pretends to be scary, but he's a bit of a teddy bear once you get to know him."

Jacob snorts again, rolling his eyes and walks away.

"Good t'meet you." he says over his shoulder.

Rook doesn't have a minute to absorb the brash behavior of John's oldest brother before a man with strikingly yellow sunglasses covering sharp blue eyes and hair tied back in a tight bun comes up to them.

"Who is this?" his hand is out immediately, smile warm and friendly, but Rook's quickly finding herself captivated by the man's intense gaze.

John introduces her to Joseph, The Father, and she extends her hand to shake his. Joseph puts his other hand over her's with a "welcome," a warm greeting, and John clears his throat.

"She just met Jacob, went as well as one would expect."

Joseph nods in acknowledgement of their brother's off-putting attitude. 

"My apologies, Jacob is... rough around the edges." Joseph smiles before clapping a hand to John's shoulder. "It's time."

She's lead to the front row, listening to murmurs around her as John's hand is flat against her upper back, gently guiding her. Jacob is near the corner of the front of the church, legs in a wide stance and arms crossed. He glances at her a moment before nodding and focusing his gaze on Joseph, who is making his way to the podium. Someone behind her whispers loudly to the person next to her,  _"Who is she? John's new friend?"_  and she feels eyes on her from all directions of the room.

_Can't shake the feeling of being an outsider, like she doesn't belong._

Joseph opens the sermon with talks of something called The Collapse, spiels about how God has chosen them, he reads from the white book with their cross and he raises his hands as people cheer and clap. It's nothing suspicious - the  _end of days_  thing being nothing she hadn't heard from other religious groups, but nothing that hits her radar.

When John stands to preach, it's a familiar energy as his brother. He's loud, passionate, confident. It's a familiar energy from the days she spent by his side in the court room as her ex-husband's lawyer tried desperately to win, and John shot him down each time with a confident snap of words with his sharp tongue. 

"Keep your family and your loved ones close for the End of Days, brothers." He says, eyes making direct contact with her's and she can't ignore the shiver that goes down her spine. She watches him as he goes into the "power of yes" and how to be free from sin, captivated by the natural born leader he and his brother are capable of being. Of course it runs in the family.

\---

She's lead to a simple wooden table next to Joseph, sitting between him and John, Jacob on the opposite side. The food is simple, but filling - venison that Jacob had hunted, fresh salmon, and vegetables with bread rolls. She's thoroughly impressed, and Joseph very gently nudges her arm with his elbow to get her attention.

"Now, I'm sure John didn't just find you on the road. How do you know my brother?" 

John smiles next to her, and she feels his right hand gently lay on her lower back. 

"He was my lawyer in Georgia," she starts. "I used to be married, John helped me win the divorce case." 

Joseph smiles as he chews a bite of salmon and swallows.

"And that's it? Just... a client of his?"

"We were friends," John adds, leaning back to look at Joseph from behind her. "And one of my favorite clients, admittedly."

Jacob snorts before shoving an entire bread roll into his mouth.

Joseph is an array of questions about her life, what she did in Georgia before choosing Montana, how it was fated for her to come to the same state as them, what she does now. She answers them all with a smile, tucking a strand of her hair back behind her ear before answering them, eyes going between Joseph's, to Jacob's, then to John's as she talks about her life. Jacob's not glaring at her anymore, eyes have softened a bit but he still has a slight scowl and chews a bite of venison while listening. She notices their eating behaviors are all drastically different - Joseph and John have far better manners than their older brother, but she questions none of it. John takes smaller bites than the other two, while Joseph eats slower and Jacob eats like his food will be taken from him if he doesn't eat it in time. 

When it's time to leave, John has his hand on her hip, keeping her close. She thanks Joseph for the hospitality, giving him a quick hug before smiling and waving to Jacob who nods his goodbye. 

"Hopefully next time I see you, Faith will be here. She'd love to meet a friend of John's." Joseph smiles. 

John walks her back to his car, an expensive SUV that she'd need to double her salary to afford, and she hops into the passenger side. 

As John drops her off at her home, he hugs her tight before she jumps out of his SUV. 

"I hope you take heed of our preaching today." He says kindly and she nods. Before she shuts the door to his car, she turns. 

"Do you still have the same number?" 

She swears his smile is bigger.

"Call me."

\---

Pratt's eyeing her quizzically on Monday morning, and she finally can't ignore it.

" _Yes_ , Staci?" 

"How'd it go?" He has a large cup of coffee in his hands and she can't help but wonder when it was the last time the guy had any water.

"It went well. I met his brothers."

Pratt huffs a laugh. 

"The red head isn't fun to deal with. He got caught hunting without a permit a few months back." he comments, before she shakes her head and continues.

"It went fine. I'm invited back any time, according to Joseph."

"Don't trust it." Hudson sing-songs behind her as she walks into Earl's office with a stack of papers.

She goes back home later that night, unlocking her phone and opening the text messaging app before closing it, opening it again, and closing it, trying to get the confidence to say something. Finally, she takes her chance, finds John in her address, and sends a text.

_Hi John. You awake?_

He calls her less than five minutes later.

"It's good to hear from you darling," he says calmly, voice smooth as silk and warm to her skin. She puts him on speakerphone as she takes off her deputy uniform.

They talk the better part of two hours, her mostly, John listening intently and asking her about her home, how he noticed the rose bushes she has out front and how long she's been gardening. It's 2am before she even knows it, giving John a quick apology for keeping him up.

"I'm fine losing sleep for you, baby." John says, voice a hum from straining to stay awake. Rook nearly drops the phone at the nickname and John chuckles. "But, I'm falling asleep on my couch. And this thing is awful on my back. I'm going to bed, Deputy. You sleep well." 

She says her goodbye and hangs up, before chewing on her thumb and wondering about the nickname.

 _"He could just call all girls that. He's no longer a lawyer, he doesn't have to keep the facade up."_ She tells herself, but she can't stop herself from doing something potentially stupid.

She opens up the camera on her phone, walks into her bathroom, and hoists herself up onto the counter. She hadn't bothered getting dressed while talking to John, opting instead to curl the blankets around her while sitting in only her underwear. She angles the camera at the mirror, intentionally jutting her hip out to accentuate the curve of her body and using the denim jacket to cover her front as she turns, ever so slightly, to the mirror, and snaps the photo.

It's provocative, sexy. She's always been proud of her body, all smooth skin and fit for her role as an officer. 

_"I'm fine losing sleep for you, baby."_

Baby. The word alone made her bite her lip.

She stared at the picture for a while, opening up text messages and the previous conversation she had started with John and attaching it to a new message.

There were moments of back and forth, if this was worth the risk, if she would get into trouble.

What if it was a step too far and she offended him? He was a baptist at a church! 

She hovered her phone over the "send" button before finally hitting it, exhaling sharply and captioning the photo.

"Goodnight, Mr. Seed."

She set her phone on the charger and buried herself under the covers, falling asleep before she heard her phone vibrate.

\---

when she wakes up, she rolls over to instinctively check her phone, feeling her stomach drop at the new text message from John.

And a picture message.

Oh god.

she sits up, taking a deep breath before opening the conversation.

_"My god, you are beautiful. God's gift to me."_

Followed by a photo of his shirtless torso, sly smirk in the mirror at the camera. 

Fuck. He's as gorgeous as she imagined under his suit, tattoos covering his body and the unmistakable "v" of his hips bones sliding into his black Levi's. His waist is slim, trimmed under muscles and all she can think about is how well her legs would fit around his hips.

Sent at 3am. He has to be asleep right now.

She fights the mental image of what it would be like waking up next to him as she grabs her uniform to get ready for work.

Okay. So the feeling's mutual on attraction, and now all she has to do is fight butterflies all day while on patrol. Not the easiest thing, but she can do it. 

... right?

\---

When she gets home that night, it's 4am. She had been able to send John a few texts here and there, with a warning of "if I don't reply, I'm busy" and quickly getting a "likewise" from him around noon, only to get radio silence after that.

_"Messege sent. Read at 1:20pm"_

Fine.

She started to regret messaging him when a phone call came in, and she glanced at her phone to find John was calling.

"Hi baby," he says coyly, and she represses a giggle. She could used to the nickname. "Think you can come over tonight? Bring an overnight pack?"

Oh.  _Oh._

Tuesday could not go by slower. She arrives at John's ranch after her shift and he lets her in, bag thumping heavily to the ground next to her. She hears him say her name before she turns, almost yelping as John's embracing her. 

"Hello baby," he says, beard tickling the side of her face as he pulls away. "Are you hungr-"

She's full of stupid decisions lately.

His lips taste sweet, and she melts when his hands immediately run through her hair, tugging just slightly to give him better access with his tongue. Her hands drift down to his hips, firm muscles flexing under her fingers through the soft fabric of his shirt. All the times she caught herself staring at his lips, wanting to see him just one more time, all the times the feel of his hands on her back made her shiver, she wanted this. Wanted him. Her hero that followed her from Georgia, allowed her to have a better life. 

Gave her  _happiness_  after years of  _suffering_. 

He finally pulls away from the kiss and laughs before she gives a quick kiss to his pointed nose.

"As I was saying," he says teasingly. "Are you hungry?"

So Rook finally finds that John isn't some perfect, other worldly being sent down from heaven to protect her, because his cooking is, as eloquently as she can put it, complete garbage.

But she eats it anyways, over salted vegetables and turkey as dry as the county from the drought. He made an effort to cook for her, the least she could do is eat it and pretend to like it.

But it fills her up, so she's happy about that.

They sit at the table for some time, Rook finally getting the nerve up to ask John about his childhood, and he talks about the good parts and the bad parts of it, the abuse he suffered, his wild party days of college, becoming a lawyer, and how Joseph and Jacob came back into his life and his decision to leave Georgia and his career to focus on religion.

She loses track of time, checking her watch with a stutter and mentioning it already being 3am. 

"Do you have a spare bed?" Stupid question. A home this huge has to have multiple bedrooms. 

"You can have mine for the night," John smiles at her, pointing up the stares. "Third door, on the left."

His bedroom is fucking massive, california king along the middle, the mattress plush and enough pillows to line her whole body. The sheets are some sort of high thread count, and she's enamored with his room. She finds his closet, a room in itself, and curiosity gets the better of her before she finds a shirt of his decorated with small planes.

So he has an affinity for air craft things. That's a mental note for his birthday, and she reminds herself to ask when that is some time.

She throws the shirt on, hoping it isn't rude for her to take his clothes, and she crawls under the blankets. Everything is soft and his pillows smell like him, it's enough to make her melt.

"I'll be on a bed in the guest room," John says to her, and she reaches out for him. 

"Stay with me tonight."

John hesitates at first, before walking towards her and laying next to her on the bed, over the covers, and she pulls gently at the blanket.

Stupid decision number two. 

He's under the blankets in moments and she can feel the heat radiating off his body. In the darkness of the room she can make out the lines of his face, air from his nose tickling her forehead and he wraps his arms around her.

"You're warm," she comments, unable to resist kissing his adam's apple. 

He tips her chin up, kissing her again and moves her body so she's on top of him, straddling his hips.

She finds he does fit perfectly between her legs.

He sits up so she's sitting in his lap, facing him, and pulls their bodies backward until they're against the headboard.

"God brought you to me for a reason," John all but hissed in her ear, lust and arousal prickling around his words. "I knew the moment I met you, you would be  _mine_."

They spend the rest of the night like that, bodies entwined and skin to skin as clothes eventually were pulled off, discarded to the floor. Rook bites his shoulder as he pushes into her, a feeling she hadn't felt since her married days, moans his name followed by "yes" in a prayer-like chant, and almost screams when he brings her to the edge, lips crushing her's and nails dragging along her hips and outter thighs. 

Her skin is sweat soaked, sticky with the heat of the night and the heat in John's bedroom, and she keeps her legs locked around John's slim frame as his hand finds the small of her back.

"I love you," it slips out before she can control it, face red hot and John just laughs that amused sound in his throat.

"The feeling is mutual, darling." 

She wakes up next to him after falling asleep in his arms, and couldn't imagine anywhere else she'd rather be.

\---

"You. Did. What?!"

Oh, how telling Hudson was a mistake.

"I... spent the night...?"

"No. Nope. No." Hudson gets up from her desk quickly and heads towards rhe breakroom. "I can't do this. You do you, Rook, but personally I think it's fucking stupid. You're going to get roped into this Eden's Gate shit. What if they start infiltrating the cops?"

Pratt just shakes his head and drinks his coffee.

\---

Six weeks go by, most nights spent with John, most nights spent with his lips on her in ways she hadn't felt in years, other nights spent lying next to him as he talked about his role in confessions and how he wants to free people from their sins.

She notices the "sloth" carving in his chest a few weeks later, and he smiles when she asks.

"Don't worry about it dear," he kisses the top of her head as he buttons up his shirt. "No one is free from sin, not even The Father."

She starts to watch him unravel. The smart, put together lawyer she met in Georgia gives way to a baptist with a slight manic look in his eye, a quick temper, and tongue sharper than ever. It's the nights when she gives herself to him that she feels like the normal John - if that is him - is back, hips moving against her's and groaning into her neck.

"This is love," he whispers to her one night. "There's no lust. It's just love." 

It's two months later when Whitehorse calls an emergency meeting.

"We have a federal warrant out for Joseph Seed." Earl tells her, Pratt, and Hudson. "It's all hands on deck, we'll have a U.S. Marshall by the name of Cameron Burke joining us in the arrest. We leave tonight in the helicopter."

Shit.

_Kidnapping with intent to harm._

This isn't happening.

She excuses herself, stepping out to call John, fighting back tears. Joseph had welcomed her with open arms to his church and she was finally getting to know Jacob. 

"I'm a bit busy at the moment," John's voice seems strained from the effort of doing something. "Is everything alright darling?"

She takes in a shaking breath.

Stupid decision number four.

"I have to do something tonight that may change how you look at me." She says through tears. "Just... I love you. And I'm so sorry for what I have to do."

There's a pause before John answers her.

"I love you too." 

She has to go. Earl keeps yelling her back in to go how they're going to do this. She hangs up, unaware that it'll be the last time she ever hears John tell her he loves her, before he chokes it out in a muddy field as she grips the key around his neck and he spits out god having mercy on her soul, his body riddled with bullet holes and his lungs filling with blood. She'll leave his corpse in the field that night.

Her hero, that she had to save people from.

Before service cuts out on her phone, she gets a text, it's John.

" _I'm sorry for what I have to do, too."_

She doesn't have time to respond. Later in their future, she'll read the text outside of the Spread Eagle, fighting back tears as she wonders if he ever loved her or if he was ever sorry, fingers tracing over the raw fresh ink on her chest.

WRATH, he had called her. Used her pain against her.

She'll never know if it ever meant anything.

When she walks into the church, she's an outsider again, and Joseph's kind eyes are fierce and locked onto her's. His family stands behind him, John's eyes never leaving her, and she tries to silently apologize to him as Jacob angrily shakes his head.

Joseph extends his wrists as John watches her intently.

"God will not let you take me."

She had a choice. Walk away, risk arrest and keep her relationship with the man she loves, or do her job as an Officer and follow direct orders of a Federal Marshall. 

The sound of the handcuffs on Joseph's wrists seal their fates.


End file.
